Why get a checking account?

My 13-year-old has no interest in opening a checking account now that she's old enough. I'm forcing her to do it, though. It's my gift to her.

Why does Elizabeth need a checking account? It's safer than stashing her money in the bedroom under her dolphin poster. The money you put in a bank is insured up to $100,000. It earns interest there, too. Bank one, dolphin zero.

Money in a checking account is traceable. Your bank can tell your current balance without ruffling through a wad of bills. Your spending is also traced and appears on your statement, so you know where your money goes. It makes budgeting easier. If your purse gets stolen, you can cancel the debit card or close the account. If you leave your purse in the public bathroom (like your sister), your cash will be gone but your checking funds will remain secure.

There are advantages to that account as you grow, too. A checking account is your first step to building a credit history. The longer it's been open and active without overdrafts, the easier you'll find it to get that first credit card. Most companies like to pay employees using direct deposit to their checking account. And many landlords won't rent to someone without a checking account -- they're not a good risk.

Elizabeth, you spend half your school time on the computer anyway. You'll love the ability to log into your account online and see your transaction balance and spending history. Even more, you'll like seeing those interest payments.

So let's get that account opened for you this month. Happy shopping!

Holidays, with Kids

What is life like when you're entering the holidays with two teenage daughters and a 9-year-old son? Allow me to fill you in.

First off, the two daughters wanted to go shopping at 5:30 am on Black Friday. They're not big shoppers, but there's a socialization/tradition aspect to getting up early that morning and visiting the stores. The two girls are always amazed at the people out and about at 6 am on Black Friday, too. It's fun people-watching.

Of course, by 9 am the "fun" has worn off. One of my daughters wanted me to take her to see "New Moon" as soon as the theater opened and the other spent two hours at the bookstore. By 1 pm when we left the mall, my two girls were satisfied and I was exhausted.

Then there's the 9-year-old son. This past Thanksgiving holiday was spent nagging him. His trading cards are spread all over my living room floor, sorted in piles across the room. And all his underwear is missing. His dad made him clean his room the other weekend, and I strongly suspect he threw all his dirty clothes into his closet along with everything else on the floor in his room. Two weeks later he's scratching his head and asking me what happened to all his socks, underclothes, and pajamas.

Children LIVE to challenge their parents' sanity.

Morality Tales

I read an old “Herotica” book from the library last week. The editor of the book is (was?) a feminist who had protests staged against her when she did a presentation at the U of M. She encouraged women to read pornography and claimed we’d never have true equality until women owned up to their sexuality. Her famous quote was “I’ve yet to have a man come up to me after class and admit he didn’t know where his penis was, much less how to use it.”

Fifteen years doesn’t seem like that much time, but most of the “pornographic” acts in this book are pretty mainstream in Harlequin Blaze books today and dismissed as mere "Chick Lit". It’s interesting to see how quickly the population’s view on morality can change when someone puts a different marketing spin on the topic. Makes you question how deeply held those “morals” really are – or how powerful the advertising industry is.

Vacation Horror Stories

We're back from our vacation.

We had a thunderstorm and the power went out right as we were preparing to leave. Couldn't print our tickets... missed our flight out... the final touch was the streaker (more of a naked stroller, actually) sauntering through the airport baggage claim.

Everyone has vacation horror stories, though. The real test is how you react. My family passed the quiz, I guess. My 13-year-old whipped out her cell phone and started texting her friends "naked dude here!" (At least she didn't take photos.) For the rest of the trip whenever the kids got bored my husband would shout "Look, another naked guy!" We got a LOT of strange looks last week, but the spirit never went out of our vacation.

In Philadelphia, I saw a Hispanic family proudly posing in front of the Liberty Bell holding a newspaper that read, "Senate confirms Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court". We found out our tour of Independence Hall was cancelled because the First Family was taking the tour instead. I felt like we were truly standing in the footsteps of history. Then my 9-year-old turned to me and asked, "Where, exactly, was 'National Treasure' filmed?" Great moments in history, through my son's eyes...

We went on a ghost tour and I told my family afterwards about the ghost tour director who died in a horrific tour trolley accident but returns to lead the tours when the living directors don't arrive in time... if our director had been more creepy looking and less college prep, I'm sure our kids would never have gotten to sleep that night!

Fun fact: Cape Code is far fuller of Italians than New York these days. Little Italy is about one block in NYC, while even the McDonalds near the Cape sold cannoli. I was so excited to see an old guy in Boston who looked like Fred's dad, only to later realize that ALL the old guys in Boston looked like Fred's dad. Gotta love that Italian schnozzola.

Anyway, our trip through Philadelphia, NYC, and Boston was a blast. I'm sure the lack of stress and time spent studying routes on a map made our vacation that much more pleasurable. We wanted to bless our GPS, but we were afraid the holy water would harm it. I recommend our trip, with a special shout out to the Lucerne Hotel in NYC. The people there defined class!

Car Ride Topics

It's spring. Last Thursday our kids had two ball games scheduled along with a parent meeting for a musical and a jazz band concert. Oh, one also stayed at the school until 6 and I had a church meeting that started at 7. It's the season of FRUSTRATION!!!

There's an upside to all the driving, though. Here's a list of high points from the car rides as I chauffer my kids around town these days:

WHAT TO PLAY ON THE RADIO: I wish I could have recorded Elizabeth talking about her tweener music. ("Lady Gaga is '08 and your music is too late, Mom. NOBODY knows who Tina Turner and that old Neil Young guy are except you!") Later she started in on U2. ("You WHO??") I think I'm supposed to be offended that she's criticizing my tastes, but I still break into giggles everytime I think about it.

MOTHER'S DAY GIFTS: My husband noticed that Victoria's Secret was having a Mother's Day Sale, and asked me who would buy lingerie for Mother's Day. I explained that some men want to show their wives that they still find them attractive as a woman, and not "just" a mother. I got a blank look in return. And my daughters LAUGH!

ON MEN WHO SHOP: My husband took my daughters out for Mother's Day shopping the night before the big day, and they loved it. They're little blood-suckers who want to watch all the misery as my husband frantically tries to select a last-minute gift. ("You bought me a CHEESE SLICER? Don't you remember? I put one in YOUR Christmas stocking with the wine opener four months ago.") Then there are the bowling balls and nylons of Christmas past... I warn my daughters that they'll get their just desserts when they have husbands of their own someday. (That'll NEVER happen! They both swear.)

ON HEALTH: My son noticed that I was wearing a tank top the other day. My arms quickly lost their tone once I refused to carry him everywhere. In fact, he poked my upper arm and pronounced, "Like pudding." I reminded my older daughter that good drivers like me always keep both hands on the wheel, no matter how great the temptation to smack your passengers...

Next Thursday... Two ball games, one awards banquet and one recital. Can't wait for the carpool!

Picking Your Battles

I teach Junior Great Books at our elementary school and my last class had four boys who got pretty rowdy at times. I'd say "Boooooys" in a threatening tone and glare at them until they settled down.

It took me awhile to get used to the whole "it's okay to show your anger to your class" philosophy. Now I realize that kids need to see their role models losing their temper in a controlled manner. I don't hold a child's misbehavior against them, and they don't hold it against me if I rebuke them by name. They quiet down and we move on. It's standard operating procedure in a classroom.

A couple weeks ago my middle-school daughter came home with a video that she'd taped with her cell phone on the bus ride home that day. It had snowed, and the roads weren't too great. The kids in the back of the bus were shouting and screaming, making the bus driver even more edgy. She finally lost it and started screaming at the kids.

I talked with my daughter about whether the bus driver's actions were appropriate (no) and if there were extenuating circumstances (yes). I asked my daughter if she felt threatened by the diatribe (no) and in the end, I didn't complain to the school.

I'm sure some would say I made the wrong decision. My daughter didn't think it was necessary, though, and I let her make the call. She did think that someone might file a complaint, though, which is why she turned on her cell phone and taped everything. Smart kid.

It's March; It's Minnesota

Last weekend it was in the mid-forties, temp-wise. On Monday it started raining and the temps started dropping. It started snowing on Tuesday and the wind kicked up that night.

On Tuesday night the wind howled. That's not unusual in March. It's Minnesota. By Wednesday morning the temps were about 15 degrees below zero. The winds died down on Thursday and by Monday we're supposed to hit 60 degrees.

That's a 75-degree change in temperature. In some months, and in some places, this would be fodder for months of speculation. Not so here, though. It's March and it's Minnesota. These things happen.

That's just one reason March is my favorite month of the year. On Wednesday morning I had to drive kid #2 to band practice. A full moon hung low on the horizon, huge and bright. All the moisture in the air lent a glowing aura to the orb and with the winds howling, it felt surreal... especially as I turned off the main road onto my block. You could still see that eerie moon peeking between the homes of the suburban landscape, and it was one freaky juxtaposition!

I doubt many other people noticed or commented on it, though. It's March, and it's Minnesota. These things just happen here, don'cha know?

Teaching New Tricks to Madd Dogs

Once a long time ago I was driving down a local street and I noticed an old man on the sidewalk angrily shaking his fist at me.

I was confused, since there wasn't much traffic and the guy didn't seem interested in trying to cross. I thought he was mouthing the words "Slow down!" but I wasn't speeding, which only confused me more.

For some reason, that angry old man shaking his fist has stayed in my head for years. It's hard to accept that a stranger is angry at you for a reason you can't understand or control. You can tell yourself that the problem is his, not yours, but it's still hard to accept that you unknowingly did something to upset someone so much.

I don't resent the man's anger. In fact, I've romanticized it over time and created many "maybe" stories about that incident. Maybe the man didn't like the speed limit in the neighborhood and this was his public protest. Maybe all the cars were going by much too quickly for his aging reflexes. Maybe God put that man there to remind me to tap on those metaphysical brakes once in awhile. Slow down. A more leisurely speed is safer, and more enjoyable.

Maybe someday I'll be an old woman standing along a street on which all the cars are going too fast. Will I be angry that I can no longer keep up? Will I feel compelled to warn them that life is wasted in the fast lane? Will I want to remind them to slow down?

I've realized that I don't want to become that person. Anger might be a memorable emotion but not a productive one in the end. If I want slower traffic, I'll post a fake road sign at midnight and laugh.

So who will you be when you grow up, and how fast will you go to get there?